Death's Last Days With the Dying

Helen Looked at Me

Helen couldn't see me. All of them never could. Feel me? Perhaps. But see me before I took them away? Never. Unless I willed myself in front of them. And I wasn't that kind. No siree, not me.

But Helen could feel me. Her breaths possessed a serene way about them. A look of surrender was etched on her wrinkly face. Peace resided in her heart, beating the fleshy walls with silvery white sticks.

Helen closed her eyes. The room faded to black as the thumping subsided. A moment of silence before her sight returned. Then, Helen looked at me.